Jaehaerys

The Prince of Dragonstone hadn't expected the elbow to the gut. Aegon had swung his sword down at Jon, who had only just managed to block in time before knocking the wind out of his half-brother. With Aegon off-guard, Jon swept low with his practice sword, sending Aegon's ankles into the air and his back onto the ground. Jon quickly placed a foot on Aegon's chest and a sword at his throat.

"I yield," chuckled the Crown Prince as Jon helped him back up to his feet. Jon was glad his new half-brother enjoyed sparring as much as he did, although his style of fighting was far more formalized than what Jon was used to facing in Robb. This had been their first session, and given the smile on the Crown Prince's face Jon doubted it would be the last. It had been said that Prince Aegon was an excellent swordsman, trained by his great-uncle Prince Lewyn the Huntsman himself. While Jon found his half-brother to be a worthy adversary, he was not so skilled as to make Jon feel hopelessly outclassed. The rumor in the North had always been that Prince Lewyn had used a poisoned blade when he fought Robert Baratheon at the Trident, so perhaps his tutelage did not count for as much as the Southrons believed. Still, Prince Aegon was good enough that Jon did not expect to win every match, or even the vast majority of them. But he had managed to win this one, and his friends seemed to be pleased.

Ser Barristan, the knight of the Kingsguard charged with watching over the bout (and as a Stormlander, the least offensive option, Jon was beginning to realize), smiled at the two princes without showing any favoritism. Domeric clapped politely as Eddard Karstark and the Smalljon let out a boisterous laugh. When Jon looked to Jorah he saw the Lord of Bear Island nod approvingly as well. A look to Ghost was all the dire wolf needed to be assured his master had never been in any danger during the fight. Jonnel Fenn was the hardest to read. The crannogman appeared to be examining everything carefully, taking note more of the courtyard itself than the training bout taking place within it. When he felt Jon's gaze upon him he returned it with a warm smile, one that spoke to the sincerity of his devotion to Jon. 'The Fellowship of the North,' as they were somewhat jokingly called, was rarely apart from Jon, and for that he was grateful. King's Landing was teeming with people, enough to make Winter Town look like a hamlet, but Jon couldn't help but feel isolated even here. Surrounded by so many strange new people with their strange new customs, he had not expected to have many friends at court. But nor had he expected the hostility that could be hidden even in the most polite conversation. While some had followed the lead of Prince Aegon and the King in welcoming Jon to the capital, a great many would find some excuse not to speak with him and to whisper amongst one another whenever he passed by with Ghost. Whether that meant they were devoted to the Lannisters or to his half-sister Rhaenys Jon did not know, though he wouldn't be surprised if there were even more factions with a reason to despise him. The High Septon had spoken to him about his duty as a prince to protect the Faith, and had seemed more than a bit upset when Jon had told him with all the tact he could manage that he wasn't going to convert.

"That wasn't very sporting, you know." Aegon chided him. "I thought you Northmen were supposed to be honorable."

"Lord Stark always said the only honor in combat comes from returning home in one piece after defeating your enemies," Jon replied. "He taught me to win battles, not tourneys, Your Grace."

"For the last time, Jae, you can dispense with the formalities." Jon's half-brother admonished him playfully. "Just call me Egg. The rest of the family does." Jon nodded seriously.

"Alright, Egg." Aegon smiled warmly at this.

"For all your talk of winning battles, I hope you realize that move wouldn't have knocked the wind out of a man in plate," he added.

"No, but it still would have knocked him off balance, and that's all I really needed." Now it was Jon's turn to smirk.

"You should listen to your brother, my son. Jaehaerys speaks wisely of combat." All turned to see King Rhaegar enter the courtyard, shadowed by Ser Arron Qorgyle of the Kingsguard, whose dark Dornish eyes narrowed at the sight of Jon and the Northmen. Perched regally on the King's arm was a magnificent hawk, with golden-brown feathers that caught the light of the morning sun. Jon, his half-brother, their respective retinues bowed before being bid to stand up straight again.

"I had thought the two of you might enjoy hunting today." The King went on. "The skies are clear over the Kingswood, and it does seem a lovely day for falconry."

"Will Daeron be joining us as well, father?" Aegon asked.

"Daeron has been invited, yes." At his Jon turned to Ghost and shook his head. The wolf may not have understood what was being said, but of late Jon had been growing even closer to the wolf, so much so that a simple glance was all that was needed to convey both the wolf's excitement at the prospect of hunting down game and the heavy heart of the boy who had to refuse him. Ghost lowered his head and rested it upon his paws in a gesture only Jon would recognize as despondent. Daeron coming meant he would not be allowed to join them.

"But it is because he and I have much to discuss," Rhaegar told them. "The two of you will be free to go out on your own. With the protection of the Kingsguard, of course." As Jon's face lit up, the King turned toward him, seemingly reading his thoughts.

"Yes, Jaehaerys, I would have your wolf accompany us. It is a wild animal; it cannot remain caged its entire life." Jon noticed out of the corner of his eye that Lord Fenn was regarding the King much more warily, as if something he said had piqued his interest.

"He is a magnificent bird, is he not, Jaehaerys? Aegon and Daeron already have ones just like him. If you wish, he shall be yours once this hunt is through. His name is Enrig." There was something in the King's utterance of that name that caused Ghost to prick up his ears. Jonnel Fenn arched an eyebrow, betraying a curiosity that was stronger than simple intrigue. Jon was unsure of why, but he felt something stir up within him as well.

"What an odd name for a falcon, father," Aegon commented. "I would have thought he would have been named for one of the old family dragons like Balerion or Vhagar."

"But a fitting name nonetheless," interjected the normally silent Jonnel Fenn. "Some of the tongue of the First Men remains spoken in the Neck, and in that language Enrig translates to something like 'King of the Birds.' I did not realize Your Grace was a student of such things."

"I am King of the First Men as well as the Andals and the Rhoynar," Rhaegar responded. "How could I hope to rule over them if I did not know something of their history, my lord of…?"

"Fenn, Your Grace. Jonnel Fenn." The King arched an eyebrow at this. Now it was he who regarded the crannogman with more than simple curiosity.

"Well I am glad for your speaking up, my lord of Fenn," the King said courteously. "It is not often I meet a man learned in such things. It is good that my son has you accompany him."

"I thank you, Your Grace. But if I may be so bold, the Prince is already tasked with the responsibility of caring for his wolf, and I would not wish to see him needlessly burdened with a hawk as well. I would like to offer my services as the bird's caretaker, until Prince Jaehaerys finds himself willing and ready for such a task." Rhaegar pursed his lips in frustration before responding, his nostrils flaring slightly.

"I would not expect a crannogman to know much of falconry." There was a note of hostility in the King's tone that Jon did not like.

"We often use them for hunting, much as other men do, Your Grace," Lord Fenn explained. "When the time is right, I would be more than happy to show the Prince all that I know of such things."

"Jae, tell your man he makes too much of a simple gift," Aegon cut in. "I have servants to look after Balerion, but the bird still knows its master. Just accept father's gift and let Fenn see to the details if he really has a mind to."

"That seems fair," Jon admitted. "I thank you, Your Grace. He is a magnificent bird. I promise Enrig shall want for nothing." Rhaegar smiled as Jon held out his forearm and allowed the bird to hop onto it. Wicked talons curled into the padding he wore for the practice bout, their tips just barely grazing the skin underneath. Enrig looked at Jon in defiance as he took hold of the rope tied to the bird's feet, as if he were daring Jon to command him. Jon met his gaze, refusing to shy away from the bird. He was proud, that much was certain. Jon could tell by how tightly Enrig held his wings to his body that he wanted nothing more than to spread them wide and launch himself into the air. That, and he resented Jon for keeping him on the ground.

"Soon," Jon whispered, feeling his will struggle with that of the falcon. "You'll get to fly soon, I promise." Enrig's grip on his arm loosened and the hawk cocked its head a bit to the right as it appraised Jon with less hostility. As the tension between the bird and the boy began to ease Jonnel Fenn quickly came and took possession of Enrig. The King smiled.

"Jae isn't too bad with a sword, father," Aegon quipped. "His technique isn't all that refined, but he certainly has some of that Northern ferocity I've heard so much about. He actually managed to win our first bout."

"Is that so?" asked the King.

"I think a demonstration would be in order, Your Grace," came the voice of Arron Qorgyle from behind the King. "Surely your two sons would leap at the chance to prove their valor to their father? Personally, Your Grace, I'd be interested to see that 'Northern ferocity' in a fight. They've certainly proven themselves ferocious in situations that call for better manners."

"I would think a knight of the Kingsguard would know better than to insult the family of a prince of the blood, Ser Arron," Jorah shot back. Ser Barristan narrowed his eyes at Ser Arron, who seemed to pay no attention to the older knight. "Imagine if I were to say a Dornishman has no hope against a man of the North in a fair fight. Surely you would demand an apology on behalf of Prince Aegon?" Aegon himself chuckled at this.

"Save your blustering for one more easily intimidated, Northman," Qorgyle sneered. "We both know I'm the better swordsman."

"This is Valyrian steel at my side, boy. You can talk all you want about who's the better swordsman. All I need is an opening."

"I don't think any of that will be necessary," Aegon interrupted before picking up his practice sword. "But I'm game for another quick sparring match if you are, Jae. Though I should warn, you, I won't hold back this time." Jon picked up his own practice sword before smiling back at Aegon, taking up a defensive stance. The corners of the King's lips turned upward, almost into a smile.

"Do your worst, Egg." Jon wasn't ready for Aegon's worst.

The Prince of Dragonstone charged him with a speed Jon hadn't expected, feinting to his right before striking downward in one fluid motion. Jon had just enough time to raise his sword to block the blow, but before he could come to grips with Aegon he was already swiping at Jon's legs. Jon hopped back, already finding it hard to keep up. It became clear to Jon that Aegon had just been sizing him up in their first bout, testing the limits of his skill. Now such pretense had been abandoned. The Prince of Dragonstone held nothing back as he drove Jon around the practice yard. Jon didn't have time to look, but he imagined Ser Arron was smirking. Despite being on the defensive though, Jon was still able to hold his own. His parries might have been a bit sloppy, but they were still able to keep Aegon at bay. I just need an opening, he thought.

He wouldn't get one.

Jon and Aegon crossed blades again. But this time, instead of pulling back and striking from a different angle, Aegon drove forward, causing him to lose his footing. Before Jon knew what was happening he had spun around and had his back exposed to Aegon. Ghost raised his head in alarm. Jon closed his eyes as he waited for the blow to come. But when he did he saw something. From a distance, and in the distorted colors of his wolf-dreams, he saw his own back as well as that of his half-brother. Aegon was going to swing low, to take his legs out from under him. Jon leapt and spun as he felt the whoosh of his half-brother's sword beneath him. He swung his blade down on a surprised Aegon who only just managed to bring his sword back up to block it in time. Jon could feel the tide of the bout turning in his favor. Then he took an elbow to the gut.

It wasn't enough to knock the wind out of him, but it did cause him to lose his balance, and that was all Aegon needed. After an elegant sweeping motion from the Prince of Dragonstone, Jon found himself disarmed, though thankfully still on his feet.

"Do you yield?" Aegon asked, pointing the tip of his blade at Jon. Despite the fact that Aegon had been dominant for the entire bout, it was still plain that the Prince of Dragonstone had been worn out by the exercise. If it were Robb he were facing Jon might have taken a chance and lunged at him, throwing him to the ground and grappling with him there. But against an opponent of Aegon's skill he doubted he would be able to get close enough.

"Aye," Jon said, a smile on his face. "I yield."

"Just as I said, father," Aegon pronounced. "Not terribly refined, but gods does he have good instincts. Tell me, Jae, how did you know where I was going to swing when you had your back turned?"

"I suppose I just saw it coming," Jon offered weakly as he felt the King's gaze upon him. The King looked at Jon with mixture of intrigue and something else that Jon couldn't place. He hoped it was pride, but that didn't seem quite right. Rather, Rhaegar looked a bit excited about the match for some reason. Perhaps he's glad his sons are both capable swordsmen, Jon thought.

"Well done, the both of you," Rhaegar congratulated them. "Now go and prepare yourselves for the hunt. It is already nearly midday and I would not have you dawdle." Aegon bowed to his father before turning back to Jon.

"See you at the front gates, Jae. If you can hunt anything like you can fight, I'm sure you'll have quite a tale for Lady Margaery when next you see her." Jon blushed at this. He hoped he would make better conversation with Margaery than he did when he first met her. Then he had only been able to mouth a few simple words of greeting, and while she had smiled sweetly at him, he doubted she had been impressed. What's worse, she had even been somewhat frightened of Ghost, but that was to be expected. Jon resolved to ask Egg's advice on how to talk with women in general and the Lady Margaery in particular. If Lord Tyrell consented to the match, he would hate to pass the years saying naught but hello and goodbye to the mother of his children.

As Aegon and the King headed out of the courtyard, followed closely by Ser Arron, Jon's fellowship approached him. Ghost slipped his massive head underneath Jon's hand so his master could scratch at his ears. Thank you, Jon thought while staring down at the wolf. I don't know how you did it, but thank you.

"Your instincts may be good, Your Grace, but you could stand to work on your swordplay a bit if you want to be a match for Prince Aegon," Jorah admitted once all the Southrons but Ser Barristan were away. "I can show you a few pointers, if you'd like."

"And I as well," added Ser Barristan. Jon's fellowship looked at him curiously. "You may need to know how to fight a man of the South someday." The rest nodded in agreement.

"Your Grace, a word if I may," Jon turned and saw Jonnel Fenn staring at him gravely. Enrig sat perched upon his arm, also eying Jon seriously. The crannogman pulled him aside and asked in a low voice.

"Tell it true, Your Grace. You really did see the prince's attack, didn't you?" Jon was surprised by the question, and struggled to think of a good response.

"It was a figure of speech, Lord Fenn, nothing more. I was merely lucky, that's all."

"Through whose eyes, Your Grace?" Fenn pushed on. "The wolf's or the hawk's?" Jonnel's expression seemed to be one of deep concern, as if much depended upon Jon's answer to the strange question. Somehow, the crannogman knew the truth. His deep green eyes seemed to swallow Jon like the marshes from which they came, leaving him with no room to escape as they demanded the truth.

"Ghost's," Jon half-stammered in response, keeping his voice quiet as well. The crannogman's hard expression melted into one of relief.

"That is good to hear, Your Grace," he said. Sensing Jon's confusion, he went on to explain, "Long ago, seeing through the eyes of beasts was not uncommon among the First Men, and to this day it is not forgotten in the Neck. I suspected you might have the gift when I saw the way you and your wolf behaved at Moat Cailin. Wolves are hard beasts to bond with, and dire wolves more so." Jon looked back to the rest of the Northmen as he saw they were regarding them with confusion.

"You can go on ahead," he urged them. "Lord Fenn and I have a few more things we must discuss." As the rest of them filed out of the courtyard Jon turned back to Jonnel.

"Is that why you tried to take Enrig?"

"Yes, Your Grace. Ghost is not the only creature with which you could form this bond. One day you could look through Enrig's eyes as well, and do much more besides. But you are not ready, Your Grace. When men with little experience skin-changing bond with a bird they can lose themselves among the clouds and forget the things of this earth. You are better off spending more time with the wolf. My prince, you must learn to walk before you can fly."

"What must I do?" Jon asked. Truth be told, he was frightened of what he was hearing, and of what having this power might mean for him. But he could not deny the truth of Jonnel's words. His wolf-dreams had always felt like more than mere dreams. His bond with Ghost was different somehow, even from what Farlan the kennelmaster had with Winterfell's hounds. He knew he had to learn how to control it. Otherwise, he worried it might one day control him.

"At night you dream of being your wolf, do you not?" Jonnel asked. Jon nodded. "On the hunt you must learn to see through his eyes, not when it overcomes you but when you wish to do so. But you must remember where the beast ends and you begin. It is less likely that you will lose yourself in the wolf but it is still possible. Your Grace, you must never forget who you are."

But who am I? Jon asked himself. He had gone from being a bastard to a prince to a skin-changer all in a matter of months. It was a question he knew he needed to find the answer to. Surrounded by Southrons he did not trust, cut off from the family he had known all his life, expected to behave as a member of one he had never known, and now told he would have to master a deadly new power, he realized his life may even depend on it.